The Yogi Bible

The stinging pinch of air
Tightens the jute of my skin,
Too compressed to flow
Through my fine wrinkles.
Yet, I beg for mindless release.
 
You unfurl my tension,
You smooth the curves of my surface.
You step into Tadasana
Your “sacred standing” posture.
You invest me with purpose.
 
Beginning with Suryanamaskar A:
Stretched upon my back, cooling my spine.
Bending forth, distributing your weight upon me.
Exerting pressure, relieving my stress.
 
Declining into Sarasana, marks the ending.
As you roll me away, billowing air constricts.
But, this time I do not feel compressed.
I rest for another week,
Until you need repose.
Anticipation comforts me.